


Unexpected

by Layla_Morrigan_Aspasia



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Porn, Committed Relationship, Dragon Age Headcanons, F/M, Headcanon, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 09:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11894637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Layla_Morrigan_Aspasia/pseuds/Layla_Morrigan_Aspasia
Summary: Unexpected.Nothing you thought you would have received from him, nothing you imagined you would have lived with him is as you imagined.You made many suppositions, you daydreamed – very often, as you admit, no shame in those fantasies – about how a contact with him would have been like, but no one told you that you would have been so wrong.Being wrong is out of the ordinary for you, but when it happens, you are sure it will be a moment to remember, forever.He is unexpected.





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Inaspettato](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11871063) by [Layla_Morrigan_Aspasia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Layla_Morrigan_Aspasia/pseuds/Layla_Morrigan_Aspasia). 



_Unexpected_.

Nothing you thought you would have received from him, nothing you imagined you would have lived _with him_ is as you imagined.  
You made many suppositions, you daydreamed – very often, as you admit, no shame in those fantasies – about how a contact with him would have been like, but no one told you that you would have been so wrong.  
Being wrong is out of the ordinary for you, but when it happens, you are sure it will be a moment to remember, forever.  
_He is unexpected_.

Getting closer was unexpected too, none of you would have imagined you would cross the safe borders of your relationship, maybe because of modesty, or awe. Those boundaries were always there, nearby, ready to be overstepped.  
Who could have predicted that? No one, especially not the two of you.

Falling for each other was easy – at least, in everyone else’s eyes – but loving each other was very difficult, as you knew it would be.  
Even though he is charming and kind, as much as you are smart and sensual, you have guarded your hearts – and your loins – as jealously as you guard with the staff your brother gave to you, as he does with grandfather’s bow, the last keepsake of a person he adored.  
For years, your friendship was the only true feeling in your souls, so deep and lively; it still is alive and well, along with something new, something special that blossomed and took roots.  
Both of you denied that emotion, trying not to give a name to it; you tried, but you failed. With that sentiment an incredible joy came, a new kind of strength and terror: you feared losing yourselves and your friendship the most, and the consternation of making a huge mistake tortured you, while you decided to take the risk.  
_Love is unexpected_.

When you had, the first time, some moments just for yourselves – far from the castle and the people in it – you laughed loudly and heartily realizing that too much _abstinence_ had “ruined” both of you, because of your clumsiness.  
You laughed until your cheeks and guts hurt, but it hurt more to realize you were in love, while all your past sufferings came to mind to make you doubt your attempt to live a new love. Sometimes love hurt: both of you know that.

«You’re not going to break my heart, are you?» he had asked, with a smile on his lips, which was clouded by a sad gaze, his eyes sorrowful.  
«That’s what _I_  should be asking you» you replied, as honest as you always have been to him. You showed your fragility, the emotional vulnerability you tried hiding from everyone, but not to him.  
He knows, he always has.  
«It seems I’ve fallen in love with you. Will you choose me every day of your life?»  
«Yes, I will.»

_“What an unexpected declaration.”_

Sebastian’s kisses are the kisses of a man who has been too long on his own, without the warmth or the touch of a woman; you know that was an aware choice, a promise made for a vow – even though you always said it was excessive – and, without explicitly saying a word, you know temptations occurred.  
You do not blame him for that, you accept him as he is.  
You, yourself say you are a temptation for him, but the opposite is also true; there is no guilt in that, just a sort of mutual consciousness, and aside from your nuptials, your presence in that bed is not wrong.  
It never will be.

What god that declares love is his only message to humankind would say that chastity is the rightful way to implement the first principle of his teachings?  
You disagree with this concept, a lot, and in his heart, not even Sebastian believes it. You know that. You have always known.  
You smile thinking that even the Divine has the same opinion as you, and that, in fact, she annulled the celibacy rule. The conflict that would have make Sebastian weak in his own eyes disappeared besides the fact that he had not formally renewed his oaths to the Chantry, but only in his soul. The conflict does not exist anymore.  
It should not have existed from the beginning in your opinion: _love is never a mistake, love is never a sin, love is never a shame, love is never wrong_.  
You can perceive that Sebastian agrees with you, putting himself on the mattress, an invite for you to lay atop him. He takes the hem of your skirt, quickly realizing it hinders you. There is no need for words, he understands and helps you as he always does.

Sebastian is careful, vigilant, his eyes are always focused on you; he holds himself in check, trying to understand if his gestures are too impulsive, if they make you uncomfortable, or worse, if they frighten you.  
One of his biggest fears is making you afraid of him, he would never absolve himself if he hurt you.  
His lips move softly, gently on the path he wants to trace on your visage, he is slow, he hesitates.  
_This is unexpected, too_.

You know him since you were young, one of your first memories about him is that of a brash lad who did not hesitate to peacock around young ladies – and also older women – and could very easily be affable and courteous, so that each seduction plan – always different for each lady – always worked, abandoning himself into passion. He even relished in the thrill of being caught in those moments, by the parents of his _victims_ or even his own, who were desperate because of immoral behavior.

His lips, for the ladies, were an invitation to move closer to him, to his attractive personality: like moths are attracted to the flames of candelabras, women let themselves be captivated by his passion.

You thought it would have been the same with you, after your first impetuous kiss, full of rage: during your very first, heavy argument – an evening full of first times, you noticed – you threw a fireball at him, your way of expressing anger, but immediately after you worried he would never manage to dodge it.  
That was the first step towards each other, friends for years, now lovers.  
Successive kisses did not have that unexpected and quick-tempered excitement, and you were astonished. You still are astonished.  
_So very unexpected_.

A lock of his hair escapes from the ribbon – one of yours, red, your favorite color: this is the reason why he _stole_ it – he uses to tie it, and fall in front of your face; you tuck it behind his ear, tenderly. He grew his hair long, mindful of your words – partly teasing, partly truthful – when you said that with long hair he would have resembled to the famous Fereldan prince of thieves, the hero of the story you loved when you was a child and still know by heart.  
You implicitly gave him a message: that way he would have been _your_ prince of thieves, the one who has stolen your heart but keeps it like a treasure, just like you are the mage who did not need a spell to make him love you.  
Maybe it is a foolishness, maybe it is nothing, but he remembers everything you say and it makes you happy. He makes you happy.

You smile at him and he cannot help smiling in return; he is a handsome man, handsome as sin and you, an iconoclast and blasphemous woman, want to get lost in him, even if you think you are not good enough for him.

«Maker, you’re beautiful» he whispers, and you are amazed: you are the one who could read his mind – if you wanted – not him, but you wonder if he is able to read yours.  
Honestly, you know there is no need to do such a thing: both of you know your fears, you respect them, and you choose to fight against them, together.  
You understand Sebastian, Sebastian understands you.  
You did not believe it would have happened, you really never thought about this event: maybe this is the reason why it seems unreal, because you, who thinks _too much_ never thought that.  
_It is unexpected_.

With the same uncertainty he showed before, Sebastian kisses you, again, and the itch of his short beard tickles you, while his mouth opens, revealing a growing warmth, as he presses on your lips, and a surprised gasp when he tastes you, slowly.  
You feel his hands on your flanks, coming almost up to your bosom, and he trails a pattern of imaginary arabesque on your smooth skin. You adore his touch, and you want more, without your clothes which are very, very, annoying.

He caresses your body, carefully: Sebastian seems to be trying to remember a dance he knows very well, but the steps of which he has forgotten, lingering like a slow, moderate courtship – but at the same desired with all his heart – played with those tender touches of fingers and lips.  
But there is more, and you know it: in this parsimonious savoring which lingers on every part of both of you – every inch of skin, every detail, every breath, every heartbeat – there is something more intense than hurried ardor: you do not fight against time, you do not need to.

Sebastian was always impulsive, a hot-head just like you, and he never denied it; but unlike you he had an irresponsible streak which made him unstable, a fickle man who lacked the will to demonstrate his own intentions with deeds, if not words.  
He has lost so much in his life, and he has had enough of seeing his life slipping through his hands. He confessed this feeling to you, and he added he wants to build something that lasts, with you.  
_His unexpected declaration reaches your ears, your heart and your soul_.

Sebastian is shy and tender when he explores your body and, lingering just another instant, he undresses you. He admires you and smiles, then he kisses you, this time with more decision, more energy: then, all his uncertainty vanish, like the waves crash against the rocks.

His full lips trail over your entire body, your skin is hotter, because of his touch: you are a master in flame spells and Sebastian is the only fire charm you voluntarily get close to. Your fire is blazing, Sebastian’s fire burns you: it never hurts you, it is good, _so good_.  
He touches you, with his lips, his tongue, his teeth, he puts himself between your thighs, and in that instant you realize Sebastian has not forgotten anything, at all, neither the dance itself nor how to perform it.  
All you can do is letting yourself go, trusting him with every fiber of your heart, while a little voice reminds you to keep breathing.

There is a carefulness in his touch, even now, as if he wants to devour you calmly, he is not in a hurry, and neither are you. He looks intensely at you, his blue eyes appearing darker thanks to the shadows, and it seems an eternity passes before your play of gazes, your particular private challenge to show who resists the most, comes to an end.  
You lose, closing your eyes first: Sebastian places his hands on your knees, your legs are spread, and his mouth touches your flesh. His tongue never hesitates now, and he loses himself in your languor.  
_In the most unexpected moment_.

Your fingers run through his hair, tangling with some locks, without pull at them, while your body is drawn to him, with desire: you want _more_. Sebastian murmurs something you cannot understand, all you catch is a bite on your inner thigh, tantalizing you, again and again.  
It does not matter now, you realize: there is not a part of you he has not known, has not tasted, has not loved.  
_You_.  
You like his teasing, so does he, grinning, a smile full of promises you know he will keep. All of them.

You cannot help but writhe when his fingers – thin fingers, regal in a certain way, and calloused, because of his arrow – and his tongue glide over your skin.  
Sebastian is a man people often see on his knees in the chantry, singing the Chant of Light, but you can see him _venerating_ you, his _earthly_ goddess: he is here, on his knees at the foot of your bed, and he occasionally interrupts his prayer to you saying there is no need to keep your mouth shut.

His voice is sweet, but full of desire, especially desire; he wants you lose control and he knows how to pray to you, saying your name in the accent that drives you crazy. He strokes that budding heat between your thighs, until your breath comes in broken, stuttering gasps.

Your own worship is different than the one people usually know: the hymn is all his, but it is you who plea, telling him to stop that pleasant torture; Sebastian pretends instead to be deaf. He lets you _sing_ your own melody, made of moans, gasps and screams, a melody only he is allowed to listen to.

Sebastian knows you: you are proud, you are stubborn, you always fight for what you think is right, for what is just. You are cantankerous, quick-tempered and the warrior of vengeance towards people who hurt your loved ones. But you are also kind and merciful towards your neighbor, to people who need help; you are passionate and soft when needed – like your curves that Sebastian touches in complete admiration – and good, just like your heart.

He knows in your life you have never had time or occasion to savor tenderness, intimacy with someone who cares about you, who takes care of you, also with the _filth_ of sex, and he tries to give you all, with all of himself.  
Loving you does not mean you cannot crave roughness in bed, you like it and Sebastian gives you what you need, which coincides with what you want and adore.

Among the flowers, poetry, walking hand in hand, there is always a road for passionate kisses, burning caresses and the coarseness of passion. You trust him, your faith in him is well placed and to Sebastian that is intoxicating, like the jasmine scent of your skin.  
And you keep _singing_ , louder, for him.

You also hurl imprecations, they slip off your lips, the pleasure makes you swear; you know Sebastian does not like curses, but you also know when you blaspheme – once, twice or more times – he understands you are feeling good, in your world behind these walls, and he does not care about that: he only cares about your pleasure.  
You call him, screaming his name, tears of pleasure on your face.

You lie in a dull oblivion, while a naughty thought comes to your mind: _he really is the prince of sin. Of my own personal sin._

«Tell me the truth: you pray every day just to have the power to drive me crazy, don’t you?» you provoke him, to make him blush.  
No one would say that Sebastian Vael, the faithful prince of Starkhaven, the man with a libertine and lascivious past, now is – just a little – shy when talking about sex, especially with his wife, an atheist and desecrating mage, his best friend, his lover.  
_Everybody will say it is unexpected_.

«Well...» he hesitates, confused and you laugh heartily, while he is infected by your enthusiasm; he then realizes, «wait, are you mocking me?»  
«No, I only want to make you blush. Your eyes stand out against the red of your cheeks» you say, sincere as you always are.  
«I can say the same about you, my love.»  
_My love_.  
When he says you are his love, every joke – funny, sarcastic, stupid jokes – you think never reach your lips; you are puzzled, but you catch his lips with yours, where you can taste the flavor of your orgasm.  
«I love you, Delia.»

_“Shit, he makes me quiver just by speaking.”_

Despite Sebastian’s appearance, his delicate features and his naturally distinguished manners, these words, even spoken in a whisper, get straight to your heart like a battering ram smashing a huge door and you are floored once again.  
_And you never expect it_.

_“No, his words are like an arrow that never misses its target.”_

«I love you too, Sebastian.»

**Author's Note:**

> So... what can I say? Four days ago I posted "Inaspettato", the Italian version of this story. Italian is my first language, but writing in English is both a challenge and a funny thing to me. ^^  
> This is my first attempt to write a fanfiction longer than a drabble in English, so any suggestion is more than welcome.  
> There are some of my favourite tropes: a healthy relationship, from friends to lovers, p0rn (of course!) and my unconditional love for Sebastian Vael. I really, really, love him.
> 
> Delia Trevelyan is one of my main inquisitors, my headcanons with Sebastian and her, in an alternate universe in which an Inquisitor is in romance with Bull, she marries Sebastian, but they primarily are best friends. I think I will publish the story in which young Sebastian and young Delia became friends... soon, maybe when I finish the translation and when I stop being so insecure. Maker, I'm hopeless.
> 
> Many thanks to @stravaganza who helped me with this translation. You are very precious, indeed. <3
> 
> If you want you can find me on Tumblr too (@laylamorriganaspasia), in my fangirling and trash little corner. ^^


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